


Bound Beyond Death

by Grunky



Series: Bound Beyond Death [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Diary/Journal, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Non-Graphic Violence, Poetry, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-03-13 21:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grunky/pseuds/Grunky
Summary: "...Please forgive me, mother. I failed, and yet again lost all that we've worked for... And now I'm here. Skyrim - in a new time. I don't know how I live again, or why, but it doesn't matter. Nothing will stop us this time. We will take our revenge... I promise." In which Mathieu Bellamont is resurrected into the events of Skyrim.





	1. Entries #1 - #4

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: This story will contain heavily implied violence, gore, and other dark themes.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls Series or anything within it; Bethesda does.

dark dark darker all lights grew until there's nothing left I knew except for you except for you

gold and white all colors alike taken by the blackness blight

carried on through silent wind for it knew that I had sinned

drowning me for their own blame suffocating forgetting all except your name

seeming like lifetimes in chains in vain but the black could never erase the pain of me seeing you so mindlessly slain

hatred redrum bloody murder but I could not completely hurt her

so then dark took me 'till today when suddenly I felt the day then night then day until at headman's axe I lay

the black grew wings took form of a powerful fabled thing of which tales of history sings

flame and jaws took the city but despite its goal could never slay me could never take me never ever Never eveR **NeVER NOT IN FOREVER AGAIN. SEVEr tHE Black! SeVeR iTS bOnds with us JUST AS WE'VE ALWAYS SOUGHT!**

In this new life we'll prevail, you and I, mother, we won't again fail!

* * *

Ah, how generous Ralof and his family are to provide so much! Provisions, weapons, and a place to rest for as long as need be, until I'm assured about traveling on my own accord. Such unexpected kindness! Courtesy like this hasn't been given to us in so long.

So, so terribly long...

...Mother, how long has it been? How long since we've seen the light? Seen another face? Everything had happened so fast, so suddenly that even now I'm yet to comprehend it all. It feels like a dream. This can't be real. It's an _illusion_. I know my memories! I've never forgotten! Before the dragon, before the binds, there was darkdarknothing at all - and then before that... There's no possible way -

And yet it's real. So beautifully... Tangible. Can you believe it, mother? I live again.

But of course, it can't be that simple to say. It never is! So I'll search for our answers we so desperately need - it's the only place to start. Ralof suggested I head to Whiterun and inform this "Jarl" of the vile dragon that we escaped Helgen from. That **shrouded, darkened** beast. I might just oblige his words - but not yet, no. We must find our place here once more, no matter how much time had passed!

* * *

As of writing this, it is 22nd of Last Seed, 4E 201. _The Fourth Era. Year two-hundred-one._ Everything is different - everything is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong! I knew things had changed, but I didn't expect two hundred years to pass.

I know this through general questioning of the townsfolk. They all answered accordingly, despite giving me the strangest looks. As if I was to know! Damn it mother, a few of those looks made me want to reach out and _strangle_ them right then and there - but no. Of course they'd be bemused! They'd think I was a madman if I told them. Told them that I was born in the latter years of the Third Era; that I died two centuries ago.

This means we've lost everything, mother. Our home, our possessions. And most importantly I lost you. I _failed_ you. I couldn't fulfill my promise even when it stood right in front of me! It was my chance to destroy the Night Mother. And I failed. The Brotherhood was free to live on, and I was sentenced to Sithis.  
Now I truly know your pain.

* * *

The wretched black; the dark. The Void. I wish to sleep tonight but I won't; I've slept enough. I spilled some ink all over a piece of parchment to mimic the feeling of sleep. That poor, tainted piece of parchment. Too dark to be used - so I ripped it to shreds. I asked Ralof's sister for any spare clothes earlier while I washed away the dark off my own. Guess what I got? Black robes. BLACK! Ooohh, what guile they had, what humor... To put me in something so vile, so irredeemable... I loathed it but accepted it without complaint - because I also loved it. How familiar it is in this strange new time! So I will wear it. I will wear my enemy until I kill my enemy, as it's always been, for if I don't kill my enemy then my enemy will wear me. It will torment me as long as I _know_. Know the blight of the world, the shadows I see every time I close my eyes. Know that in there, somewhere, you're still trapped. Trapped like a beautiful bird in a cage of ugliness.

Ah, two birds struck down by the same hands - it's only natural they be locked in the same cage, right? That's how I know.

And so I know I won't sleep tonight. No, I'll be away while the town sleeps. I'll bring an axe, a bow, and a shield for good measure. I'll make friends with the shadows once more. I'll hate it - but we know it must be done. Whoever crosses my path will have their blood stain the earth!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I like Mathieu Bellamont's character and find him sadly underrated. While he only visibly appears in one or two quests in all of Oblivion, his diary is what captures his actions and motives, his backstory that seems quite tragic once you really consider it. I even recreated him in Skyrim one day, which soon gave me this interesting idea - how would Mathieu react to events in Skyrim? If he was somehow alive in the time, keeping another diary for his mad rambling?
> 
> As for the story itself, it's experimental for me, as I usually don't write in a first-person POV, much less in the style of journal. Soo... The first draft of this sucked. But I rewrote entries #2 - #4 to the ones you've just read, so hopefully it's a little better now. :) And who knows, you may find this pleasantly different too. Also, if you found this story so far confusing or nonsensical, I made it like that. These ARE coming from a madman, after all, and the journal style in general doesn't give much room for vivid description. The trick is to read between the lines; think about the sentences and how they're conveyed, and you should start seeing a bigger picture. I didn't choose these words idly. ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to share your thoughts if you have any and give critique - I really appreciate it! Perhaps you'll come back?


	2. Entries #5 - #8

DAMN YOU, MOTHER! DAMN YOU TO OBLIVION!

Why!? Why do you insist on keeping secrets from me?! I thought we were closer than anything, that we promised to keep nothing from each other. But now - but now this! After all I've done for you and you couldn't trust me with one simple statement.

You must have known from the beginning, too. I know you mother, and you know everything about me, but when I'd ask about the others you'd shake your head, respond oh so prudently... So? Is this why you estranged us from them?! The reason why you never let father take me away?! The reason all that we've been through was put into fruition?!

All this time, did you know I was Dragonborn?

...I'm sorry, mother. I didn't mean to berate you like that, but things could have been different for us had I known. I could have perhaps went up to High Hrothgar and - though it would take many years - learned with these Greybeards. Hone my abilities as needed in order to take our revenge.

Could you imagine it, mother? It'd be like a bard's tale. How befitting it would have all been if Lucien Lachance, who fancied his own voice superior to others, be torn asunder by the power of a dragon's shout! And the Night Mother, who's sacred words could indirectly shatter countless souls - what could she have done in her cursed crypt if I shattered her very being with words more ancient than her?

As much as it pains me, that chance is buried in the sands of centuries.

But we will get another.

It seems I have rose to fame in Whiterun; my name has spread like wildfire since I had slain the dragon, amplified by the sheer number of people passing through the city. I've been donned a Thane by the Jarl for my defeat of the beast along with other small deeds for his court and his people, even giving me a Housecarl that would protect my life with her dying breath. Hah! Nine know she'll be testing that oath. With this notoriety, it is only a matter of time before _they_ know.

* * *

Gess wat I saw tuday, mommy! I wus owtside piking flowers for yu and I saw a man on the roade. A marry man! Jesturr! I no yu told me not tew talk tew strangers but he wus walking up tew me wen I saw him. His name wus Seesseero... Sissiro. Cissero? Cis - Cicero? He wus from ceerodill. I LOVE the jesturrs from ceerodill! He wus funny, too. He wus THIS short and he had a weerd voise and he dansed and clapt and sung. He made me laff just like the other Ceerodill jesturs did. I also helpt him by makeing the man up the hill fix his wagon weel. It wus the nice thing tu do I think. He sed he wus takeing his mommy tu anuther crypt wen it broke. I woodent want anyone to not help YOU, mommy.

* * *

Sometimes I wish the dark had erased me,

and made me forget all that depraved me

Because I'm looking out at the city,

and thinking of everything I simply can't be

Sometimes at night I'd wish all away,

to think of a quiet life to live for a day

But always within me their grasp will stay,

even if in death I lay

* * *

Ha! I knew it, mother! I knew something would abound if I went into the Reach! This region teems with dangers around every turn. Sabre cats, bears and wolves, steep inclines and rushing rivers - there are even tribes of savage and unhinged men they call the Forsworn native only to this expanse. It's only natural such wilds would bring about a Dark Brotherhood assassin.

Ah, how I've been longing for their blood on my hands!

They had emerged at the brink of dusk, waiting for me along the road. Right there! And they thought I couldn't see them? Tch. Their agility might have been competent but their recklessness was their folly; now they're impaled on a rock. I found a note on them, from someone named Astrid, who ordered for my death. What did I tell you mother? This was bound to happen and we both knew it. I have to wonder if they remember my name? If the story of my betrayal has resounded across two centuries? And how they must've twisted it through the years?

But what matters from this encounter is that I am aware, and they've revealed themselves; I know now that they still exist, skulking in the shadows, waiting to strike me down.

So let them come.

I'll sever a dozen of their heads before Astrid gets her wishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has to be my personal favorite chapter of those I've written so far, and perhaps one of the best of this story in general. I think it's the closest I've gotten to Mathieu's actual diary in terms of style and voice - while of course adding newer bits of character. I hope you liked reading this just as I did writing! As always, thank you, and perhaps I'll see you next chapter?


	3. Entries #9 - #12

What an exciting place Markarth is! You would've been disgusted the moment you stepped foot in this city, mother. It's nothing a mother would ever want her and her son to stay in. Murder! Forsworn! Haunted homes! Spiders! Vampire attacks! That's merely a handful of the conversations I've been hearing from the citizens here. This city is built into the mountains, upon the ever-stable foundations of a dwarven city - yet stable foundations cannot protect them from their own incompetence. And we know that all too well, don't we mother?

I wouldn't have known all this in such a short time, nor would I have cared; this was supposed to be a day's visit, after all. A simple request for a simple delivery! But those vampires I mentioned? Those bloodsucking fiends came, and they fought, and they wounded me and Lydia to the point of needing an alchemist and a priest. So here I lay in the inn for days!

* * *

_**FleshandBoneFleshandBoneFleshandBoneFleshandBoneFleshandBone** _   
_**BloodandMarrowBloodandMarrowBloodandMarrowBloodandMarrow** _   
_**FeastFeastFeastFeastFeastFeastFeastFeastFeastFeastFeast** _

* * *

I couldn't contain it. I couldn't control it. Please forgive me, mother. I know, I know we promised to help that priest. To do something in favor of the Nine for once after so long in the black? But I fell into the black again, then I made it all red - on my hands, on my teeth. It's the red of the Nine, mother. I'm sorry. I broke another promise - can you forgive me?

She forgives me.

There was too much on my mind, too much time to think, and no one was there to listen. Not Lydia, no - she's merely a bodyguard. Someone to trust with a blade but not a secret. And you! You've scarcely spoken as of late. I had to quell it; the thinking, the **frustration**. I talked to the priest, came to the crypt, but it wasn't enough. When she came with her offering, I knew that it all would dissolve. I found another solution. One I had used so long ago - this was all too familiar, thus too right to refuse.

And she accepts me. She welcomes me. They all do.

Don't assume I didn't consider it, mother, and don't think I didn't _try_. I should've could've killed her anytime I was so close! I fell behind hoping a trap would befall her. But nothing did. I stayed my hand. Too much on my mind - it all wouldn't matter when the priest was lured in, when the feast began.

* * *

Of course! How could I have not recognized it? The ring is the key - the key, is the ring. Constructed from the very depths of Oblivion, presumably by Namira herself, entrusted unto her champion. And rightfully so. The ring radiates such an energy we lacked in our final moments, what we needed in absence of tact. The ring **is** power. The very **control** I've been reminiscing on so much. But as we are now hunted by the Brotherhood, never to infiltrate their ranks again, we'll need to overpower them more than ever.

I thought about it when I first learned I was dragonborn but I dismissed it. I will not rest simply on that. We know the Brotherhood better than that, don't we mother? There's no telling how much they've strengthened in this era. We'll also need yet more answers if I wish to unlock my powers... And that just leads to the question of why, and how... No, we'll search farther than that for our power. And while I may not have Namira's Ring, I do have its keeper. Eola said she'd accompany me! Me and Lydia, once I meet her back in Markarth's inn. She said she was interested enough in my journeying to consider lending her help. Oh, what fun we'll have together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this episode, Mathieu has woes about eating dinner at a stranger's house without mommy's permission. :D
> 
> Anyway, this one was a bit frustrating to write, as some things in planning forced me to change #12 and I just couldn't convey #11 the way I wanted. I tried to fix them up, so hopefully they're alright. :') Oh! And if you're enjoying this story, if you're curious about any of it such as an aspect of Mathieu's character or his views on other events, from here on out, do tell me! I might just write an entry about those ideas into the story later on if you're interested about it.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. I really appreciate it.


	4. Entries #13 - #16

Milkdrinker! A milkdrinker!? I hope the fool knows he could have bit back on his words. I was doing nothing! We could've passed each other in silence. Ignorant! He knows nothing of me. "Go back home to your mother?" Tch. I'm sure he wasn't expecting a warhammer to his skull, right mother?

* * *

Long months ahead of us, longer weeks behind us. Dare I say it feels like years since I've been called to climb the mountain? Days prolonged yet so quick, wandering lost yet destination clear... Am I making sense to you, mother? I can barely even hear. It's, hm, my sleepless mind, I suppose. No rest in the Reach; little rest in Whiterun. Even when Lydia or Eola would settle in I'd be up watching, patrolling... They told me it'd be safe but I know better.

What came from the path to Ivarstead? The ignorant nord, a brush with death, helping the Jarl with local troubles as is a responsibility as Thane. And Lydia returned to Whiterun to rest. It's all blurred really! It's like all of a sudden I'm here! I feel like a flower drifting in the wind, so weightless and carefree. It's so much better to be a flower in the wind, than to be wind in the Void. _Oh, I wish you could be a flower again, mother. I wish you could drift through this beautiful land of orange and green and white with me._

But I'll tell you of the journey up to High Hrothgar, alright? It should be a harsh, but livening sight up there. I'll be safe, I promise!

* * *

There'd be only wolves up the path to High Hrothgar, he said. Just wolves. That's the only thing he'd encountered. Just wolves.

Just wolves! Just! Wolves! WOLVES!

**Wolves.**

_Wolves._

Wolves.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLVVES!

W-o-l-v-e-s... Is it pronounced with "ulf" or "olv?" Why isn't it simply spelled "Wolfs"? Or should "Wolf" be called "Wolve" or "Wolv." And should "Leaf" be called "Leav" or "Leave" or should "Leaves" be called "Leafs."

Wait.

"Leave" is the same spelling as "Leave," and "Leaves" is one letter away from "Leave." What if the "Leaves" meant "Leave?" Of course the leaves can't speak but what if they tried to communicate that through their motions? And leave... What, perhaps? Leave this mountain? Leave this journey? Leave myself? Leave this world and all that plagues it?

I want to leave. Leave everything. I'll leave this non-wolf! The troll! We can go around it somehow and leave it behind without it knowing we were even here! Precisely!

* * *

Answers, much needed answers - yet still more questions and ponderings! All I've been doing on this mountain is think think think, think think think! Eola is growing restless under these conditions and truthfully so am I. But I needed our answers. So we stayed. We stayed and we pondered and we abided by their ways until the Greybeard gave us answers no more!

So many answers did he refuse me. It's no help that only one of them can actually _speak_ , although... He says I must be connected to the dragons' return, and that my Dragonborn ability must be some gift from the gods... But there is more. I'm sure of it. He keeps secrets from me! He speaks of them as possibilities, questions, not answers. So what if he knew exactly who we were? After some time with him, I got the old man alone. I told him of my place in the Third Era, my death and resurrection. And he knew. Ohh, he certainly knew. I could see it in his eyes. But he gave me yet more _possibility_ , not _conclusion_.

He wants me to wait; he says I'd have my answers later on. That it'd be made clear once I've honed my Voice... He fears me, mother. Fears I'd grow drunk with power if I simply knew!

Is it so wrong to know why I'm here again? Or how? I've been pushing it to the back of my mind, saying it doesn't matter, but in truth it's kept me awake through all those sleepless nights. Wouldn't it haunt anyone? If I were brought back to confront this dragon threat, then why me?! Why not another Dragonborn? Uriel - Martin - so many others but I was chosen. Me, a murderer, a traitor... A pitiful waste! Why not you, mother? You deserved life more than me!

...Or was it father who had this dragon blood?

...Can't you just answer me? I miss what we used to have. Ever since this Dragonborn nonsense, we've been torn apart, farther than ever. You barely speak to me anymore. I just want to talk to you. Why do you think I've been writing to you more frequently. Why have we let this all distance us? I didn't ask for this to happen, and the least you could do is give me reassurance. I'm so sick of uncertainty, having to wait, we've waited so long, in this life and the previous, it's all we've done!

At least I have Eola with me. At least she speaks to me, comforts me. At least I don't expect answers from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things I've been worried about with this story is how readers are going to receive Mathieu's attitude in certain entries. I think he may seem overly fractious or melodramatic at some points to some people (See #5, #11 or right here with #16) and I hope that doesn't turn away anyone, as there is logic behind his reactions, whether subtle or not. (If they weren't already turned away at the first chapter hahahaha) Would be a little boring to have no strong emotion behind some situations even if a little exaggerated, I reason, but let me know what you possibly think. :)
> 
> As always , hope you enjoyed! I know last chapter was quite short so hopefully even this last entry in itself will suffice in length.


	5. Entries #17 - #20

mommy mommy can I sleep with you tonight I had another bad dream another nightmare about nothing at all just darkness all around me that horrible darkness I know so well and when I wake it's another dream about the big monsters in the skies above me and the monsters with blades forever stalking me I wish I didn't have to close my eyes for so long so sometimes I don't but then I think of you and how you must always see just darkness and how you used to tell me it's alright to have the candles out because the light has to come sometime that there's always a dawn after dusk so I'll use that promise to get me through another night since I can never sleep with you again or see your face next to me again

* * *

Ha! And Lydia said one night would be safe. We were attacked! Even in a most secluded hollow in the Rift something had managed to find us. Just think, mother - had I not been faking sleep I'd have been dead once more. Dead without even knowing it.

But it wasn't an assassin as I expected for so long. It was a vampire. Just like in Markarth! This time though, it was alone, no thralls or lackeys to help it. Even so, I wonder if there's more of the fiends to be found? They always seem to come in swaths, like a mangy pack of wolves; I've only ever met one before that fought alone... Hm. Me and Eola will find out soon enough. For now, we'll give it a taste of what it's like to be it's victim!

* * *

...Do you remember Maria? I'd forgive you if you didn't. After all, her actions were a, difficult thing to deal with, for both you and me, and I too might've forgotten if I'd have seen anything else for the past two centuries. But do you remember that promise I made to you, regarding Maria? That I'd never let anything like that happen again?

I broke that promise.

Broke it like all the other promises I made to you.

I'm sorry. No son should ever lie to his mother this much... And I've also been lying to myself. Constantly. I don't expect you to forgive me this time - I wouldn't, myself - I just want you to hear me out... But you never do, do you, mother? Not anymore. I've displeased you far too many times for you to even consider another vow from me, and there's no exception now. And you know what, mother?... I'm tired of it. Making promises only to never keep them, saying that I'll hunt the Brotherhood down when I've barely heard a rumor on them. But most of all I'm tired of... **You**. You and your dreaded silence. Have you lost yourself? Do you not realize that I've known how you're feeling? That I'm still trying to help despite everything? _Should I try?_ What good are these words when you won't just respond? Maybe I should stop writing this...

... Just... Let's ignore each other for awhile. You do so love your silence, after all. And at least I have Eola. She knows the things Maria once knew, but she isn't... Completely, like Maria... Plus I've had a few too many drinks to bear, well, doing anything now. I'll just hope I'll discover something in the morning.

* * *

they came again the town asleep looking for more lives to reap I wake to hear a horrid cry and find a woman about to die I stare in shock she sounds like you so in your name for her I slew the fiend and all its hidden friends had then by dawn all met their ends an orc that helped came forth and said "join us before more wind up dead" and from the scream I realized then the Brotherhood are much like them both prey in the night in shadows they fight and ruined lives are left in their plight so if I can't strike the Night Mother's heart with vampire's fetid blood I'll start we'll begin this anew and tiredly wait but in due time I'll see to their fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title for this story: Mathieu Bellamont and the Curse of Mama Drama.
> 
> (R.I.P. My good sense of humor)


	6. Entries #21 - #24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the nigh unreadable nightmare that is entry #23. :D

A few months have passed since I last wrote. How the time flies! How days come and go when you've been hunting down vampires, exploring old burial tombs, searching and scouring the land for the power you need. Much has happened! I'm sorry I haven't been telling you where I've been. What I've done, what I've seen. I'm sorry I haven't been answering to your despondency.

But know I haven't given up - I'm trying my damndest! Only now do I truly realize how elusive the Brotherhood can remain. I've been listening to every rumor of the cities where I've been, looking intently for any small clue as to their whereabouts, and nothing has come of it. I did track down another assassin preying on me the other day. This one was a challenge, but I eventually brought them down. I bound and interrogated them, but it did no good - they'd been faithful to that whore to their dying breath. Fine then! I stuck their head on the branch of a tree next to their corpse, and left a message that I originally planned to have them send to their sanctuary. And don't worry - I made sure only those searching will come across it.

Beyond that, I've had no luck. Be patient! With the Dawnguard we have new tools, and others that share similar views. The leader in particular is no fool to caution. And just as this guild is to be renewed, so too can I rebuild what I once had. It may not be the _solution_ , but it damn well might just get us where we want. At last I've found something definite; an initiative! I'll only go farther from here.

* * *

What a fool! Even as I've accustomed to walking the world once more, I still haven't accustomed to living in this time, with new history and new politics. It's a careless thing when you're talking with the _Jarl_. Even more careless when it's an evening-long interrogation over dinner that he invited me to.

Oh, did I say interrogation? Ha. I meant _discussion_ of course. About me - what I am and what I know! I let my tongue slip more than once, with small details and small coincidences, but enough to strike bemusement, suspicion even. I scarcely know of the Great War when I "should've" been right within its grasp, it isn't the Septim dynasty anymore but the Mede dynasty, so on, so forth... Little things! But he'd correct me, then continue. He wants to assure himself that he's placed his trust right in electing me as Thane, I suppose, and I'll make sure he keeps thinking he has. He'll consider my every word, so I must be more deliberate. Especially regarding this civil war... Oh yes, **that**. I'd be damned if I took a side in that - but one day he will have to. And if it means having a powerful influence on my side, I'll do just about anything...

* * *

IambutamannotadragonIhavenowingsIhavenotailIhavenoclawsIhavenoscaleswhatgoodismysoulwhenmybodycanstilldieandIcanfeelpainlikeanyotherhumanIamnolegendIamnobetterthanahumansohowcouldtheyhaveexpectedmetosavetheirvillageortheircityorthemselveswhenImmerelyahumanawretchedhuman

* * *

**Solitude.** Dreaded, desired solitude. Sweet, bitter solitude. Solitude so hurtful and so comforting. I'll have to dwell in Solitude for awhile, for Isran suspects vampire activity in the area; from his leads he surmised whatever they're doing here is much more crucial than before, even more so than their "Redwater Den" operation we took down awhile back. Thus, there's bound to be more of them. Oh, what fun we'll have! Much, much more fun than in Whiterun... And while Durak and Agmaer are out afield I'll be looking for clues within the city walls. Lurking in Solitude. Lurking in solitude. Dreaded, desired, sweet, bitter.


	7. Entries #25 - #28

Well ain't this something - how splendid! What a tasteful dolop of a book. Not as much as clouds or snickerdoodle I'm afraid - no - wait - actually, I digress, I got sick of clouds and good ol' gramma Beatrice got imprisoned by grummites - they don't make it like she used to... so, yeah! Lovely book! Makes me wonder why we haven't met earlier... have we? We have! We have indeed, for I am your friend, your enemy, your dreams and nightmares... no. I'm just the Mad God. And all those at once. You just haven't noticed, nor can your feeble, homicidally insane mortal mind comprehend that I AM the bruise on your psyche because I AM... Sheogorath. Humbled, dear Bellamont.

Oh - was I getting sidetracked? Happens a lot. Too much. I _think_ I was going to say... ah yes... ONE critique for you! Mister Bellamont: yer too WHINY. You're like a spoiled child! You complain about everything! Now the words are crippling my mind - agh! I thought I was supposed to do that. Touche, sir. But it makes me want to slap you silly with a garden rake and use our faceskin for my new boots!

Bahah, what joy!... but that may be arranged for, another time. Somewhere in this eternity - or the next. Right now I'm watching as you stare at me. Pouting as I tinker with your possessions like a sad little man. I could burn them, you know. Or drown them. Or donate them to the poor! But I'm letting you run around in Pelagius' confused little mind for a chance to get them back - and return to Tamriel! Tamriel? Bah! Because of course you wouldn't want to spend some nice quality time with me, Sheogorath, humble Lord of Madness. Of course - go on. Be that way. Shoo. I'm already sick of your face. The faceskin boots are getting _sorely_ tempting.

I don't even know what you see in that place, Tamriel... It looks funny! Everyone has a problem! And the MUDCRABS EVERYYWHERE!

I must invite you to bath of mudcrabs when I summon you again. It's quite exotic!

* * *

Boring boring _boring_! Just a tad, no offense. I thought running you along would be a bit more entertaining - all the back and forth and back and forth and angry grumbling and steal mah food and back and forth you go. Like a rat. A human rat. A ratty human? Then I realized we really should've set up a more... personal meetin'.

And by that of course I mean me takin' a vacation in _your_ volatile mortal mind! Where you can sing to me those poems of yours. And trim my beard.

Bah! But that can always be arranged. Boggling you with riddles and rambles can suffice for now. It's always better to watch when you're _functionally_ insane. Functionally - the key word! Can't be very functional when you're dead. Unless if you're dear Uncle Leo. Or strings are tied to yer limbs to make you sing and dance. Or a necromancer comes across you. But I tried this and I tried that and your brains were as mushed as mangled potatoes!

... Hm. Maybe I'm mistaking you for someone else? Hirrus, maybe? Yes! You remind me of Hirrus!

Sad sod.

Miss 'im greatly.

* * *

Baliwogs squeak

The fat lady's yellow

Last week I had Haskill play the cello.

Huh... I'm startin' to like this - let me pick out another one...

There once was a man named Silicus Varn,

Who liked to tie himself in yarn!

Then hung his feet from the chapel or the tree,

The upside down was all he could see,

In the sky, a bird, he wanted to be,

Until one day he was set free!

He set off and said bye,

But very far he could not fly.

Ha ha! Not bad, Sheo, if I do say so miself. What do you think, dear Bellamont? I have a knack for poetry? Why, you can't have genius without a touch of madness, after all.

* * *

Welp - I'd say this was a success! You did all I had forced of you to help treat poor Pelagius' rash called insanity! While I think the world is getting too sane these days, it's been due time. Over two-hundred years due time. You know that feeling, dontcha?

Now for your service - I could always, _always_ deem ya my champion! You quite fit the bill. But I know you. And I know you're a simple man, with simple desires.  
How about a bone for a bone? No harm in that - except when there is. You know there is when there's a lot of screaming.

Ah, yes! yer mother had always been one for screaming - perpetual screaming! Nettling, really. But... my condolences to ya, boy. She was a wonderful woman nonetheless. A shame she was starved to the bone... her face did, at least. Her lower portions? Don't know what happened to her lower portions.

So here! Mother dearest! And I'll give you back this lovely little book - I'd like to see you continue, good sir!

Not to worry - it'll look like it was never touched by the mad god! Uncle! The _King of Giraffes_! (Note to self: Hard work stretching out all those horses necks. Should enlist some help.)

Because this is vanishing ink, ya dolt! The most useful and useless invention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheogorath is a very difficult character to get right for me, personally. It took me quite awhile to get a voice I found satisfactory. I hope ya'll enjoyed the temporary switch of POVs here; it was a nice challenge.


End file.
